Birds gather outside my window—wren,
cardinal, grackle. In the past, I didn’t know
they were there. Now I wait for them,
how close they come. Robins are most
common with their rust orange bellies.
Yesterday the first goldfinch 
perched on the deck, a plump sun.
I’m not sure what it means,
a rare bird—so comfortable here.
After my stroke, I notice
small feathered creatures. I seem
to attract them like a pond of magic.